


Being Close and Being Clever (AIn't Like Being True)

by mizface



Series: Linnet Bird [9]
Category: Canadian 6 Degrees, Harper's Island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-07
Updated: 2011-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:33:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Betaed by lucifuge5. Title comes from Sweeney Todd lyrics.</p><p>Spoilery for the series, post-series AU</p>
    </blockquote>





	Being Close and Being Clever (AIn't Like Being True)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hazelwho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelwho/gifts).



> Betaed by lucifuge5. Title comes from Sweeney Todd lyrics.
> 
> Spoilery for the series, post-series AU

A self portrait. Madison sat in her dorm room, eyeing the blank page with a mix of disgust, dismay, and stubborn refusal. When the TA for her advanced drawing class had announced the assignment in class earlier that week, there had been a range of responses, from sighs of relief at not having to do yet another still life or landscape to worried looks and cringing from those intimidated by the nuances of the human form.

Madison had let it all wash over her, writing down the details _(any medium, at least 9x12, due the following Monday)_ with the same calm she had for every assignment they’d been given this semester. But for the first time, the façade was difficult to maintain. Still, it wasn’t until she’d reached the privacy of her room after her classes that she allowed herself to start working through the worries she had about this particular assignment.

Madison’s art instructors, TAs and professors alike, emphasized that what was chosen to put on the page could be as telling as what was left off. And Madison totally agreed with them. She knew how to pick and choose her subjects with care and precision, revealing only what she wished to; that was where her true artistry lay. But a self-portrait… that was all _about_ revelation, and was the last thing Madison wanted, especially for something as trivial as a grade.

She let herself indulge in wishing John were here, wondering how he would advise her to proceed, whether he’d see her concerns as valid or childish. With a shake of her head, she dismissed the idea that he’d not take her worries seriously. John would have listened to her, and more than that, she knew he would have _understood_. He’d have told her to think it through, find the right angle, work with what she was given, and as long as she kept a clear head, she’d be fine.

She wished it was that easy, but somehow she found ways to put off even thinking about the project until here she sat, late Sunday night, with a blank page in front of her and an equally blank mental slate as to what to draw. She thought briefly about just skipping tomorrow’s class. But Madison _never_ missed a class; to do so now would be too out of character. There was no other choice – she would have to complete the assignment.

Her classmates would be shocked if they could see her; Madison had no illusions about her drawing skills, though they surpassed most of the class. Technically, she was quite adept. But she always held back, kept herself out of the work and that seemed to be an impossible task this time. The thought of missing class danced through her mind again, and she did her best to squash the impulse down; it was doing her no good.

After another ten minutes of just staring at the paper and fiddling with her charcoals and pencils, she sighed heavily and walked over to the window, looking out into the darkness. She wished she could be out in it, letting the night envelop her like a blanket.

Looking over her shoulder at the stark white page on her desk, Madison barely resisted the urge to crumple it and toss it aside. A glance at the clock showed a much later hour than she wanted, and she crossed her arms over her chest, looking out the window again. Hers wasn’t the only light still on, but it was one of the few, and the walkways below were empty, the cold, damp weather keeping everyone indoors.

Madison leaned against the glass, resting her forehead on the cool, smooth surface. Gazing up, she saw herself, eyes shining in the dark pane. The rest of her face was misty, blending into the night and reminding her of the Cheshire Cat, bodiless features floating in the air.

Pulling back abruptly, she moved to her desk and rifled through a drawer until she found black paper and chalk. Armed with a plan, she sketched quickly, the lines flowing easily onto the page. Once it was done, Madison set it on the window sill and stepped back, allowing herself a small smile as she looked at the results of her work. Satisfied, she put her materials away and readied herself for bed.

**************

The instructor praised her creativity during the critique. Madison accepted it with a tentative smile, her face a careful mask of shy happiness and relief. In truth, his words meant nothing to her. All that mattered was that she’d once again succeeded in presenting exactly the image she meant to portray. She was safe.

She looked over the finished work again as the class moved on to the next critique, holding back a satisfied smirk at the drawing, its vague impressions of her features showing in the gray and white highlights on black paper, her cold eyes somehow softened when shown as a reflection on glass.


End file.
